My wife had taken Ida out of the way when the first complaining note
from Mrs. Talboys had been heard ascending the hill. But now, when
matters began gradually to become quiescent, she brought her back,
suggesting, as she did so, that they might begin to think of
returning.

"It is getting very cold, Ida, dear, is it not?" said she.

"But where is Mr. O'Brien?" said Ida.

"He has fled,--as poltroons always fly," said Mrs. Talboys. I
believe in my heart that she would have been glad to have had him
there in the middle of the circle, and to have triumphed over him
publicly among us all. No feeling of shame would have kept her
silent for a moment.

"Fled!" said Ida, looking up into her mother's face.

"Yes, fled, my child." And she seized her daughter in her arms, and
pressed her closely to her bosom. "Cowards always fly."

"Is Mr. O'Brien a coward?" Ida asked.

"Yes, a coward, a very coward! And he has fled before the glance of
an honest woman's eye. Come, Mrs. Mackinnon, shall we go back to
the city? I am sorry that the amusement of the day should have
received this check." And she walked forward to the carriage and
took her place in it with an air that showed that she was proud of
the way in which she had conducted herself.